


the backwards journey

by minkit



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Multi-Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkit/pseuds/minkit
Summary: "If you had the chance, what would you do? Would you save him? Your dear Eddie? Do you think it would be so easy to save him? That you could do it? I want you to tell me what you would give in order to save Eddie. What is so precious to you that you would give, trade, in order to give Richie Tozier his Eddie Kaspbrak back?""I would fucking die for him."-Richie is given the chance to save Eddie, to travel back and stop him from dying. The catch? Every time he fails he's sent further back in time and has to stop it from happening all over again, in situations he doesn't even know are going to happen.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story isn't completely written. But I DO have a definite idea of exactly what I want to do. I don't think it's going to be incredibly long story (chapter wise, I've a feeling the chapters may get long however so get ready for that), but I really hope it'll be one of the best things I've ever written. I'm already incredibly in love with this first chapter and I hope you guys are ready for Richie's journey to save Eddie!! 
> 
> More tags will be added as things happen, as well as character tags for when other characters show up but since I don't know *exactly* who will show up when and what will happen when, I'm holding off on adding the tags! Please enjoy! <3

Neibolt House was strange. Richie had never really taken the opportunity to explore it so thoroughly before, and, why would he? He didn’t want to stay in there, the terrifying place full of secrets and demon clowns, but now he had no choice, forced to wander the halls, silence drowning his ears. 

That is, except for the creaks of the old wood beneath his feet. Each step he did made a sound and he wanted to cringe, clutching the flashlight harder in his hand. 

The shadows played games with his mind. Every once in awhile he saw  _ something _ and he couldn’t be so sure that it wasn’t nothing, Pennywise always did like his tricks, and Pennywise somehow remembered everything. A creature outside of this realm, he knew what would happen, he knew Richie’s secrets, could see into him, and Richie had no idea how he was to stop this at all. But he would try. He had to try. For the Losers. For Stan. For Eddie.

For himself.

“Richie…” a light call came for him, from behind him, and he stopped, turning and pointing his flashlight off down the hall, through open doors and nothing else. It was dark, blackness swallowed all the light that shone from from his flashlight and he swallowed down, his heart racing. It could be a trick. But it could also be real. 

And he remembered the last time, the first time, that Pennywise had used this trick on him. Eddie’s voice calling to him, luring him alone, but he was already alone, it made no difference now.

He stepped forward towards the voice calling to him and into the shadows.

“Eddie?” He called out, taking careful steps into the pitch-black room and he heard the voice again. He walked a little faster and through the doorway and nothing. No sight. Just deafening silence and Richie partially wondered how silence could be deafening, but it was.

And then there was a silhouette directly in front of him and Richie rushed forward only for something to push him back, feet sliding against the floor, like there was an invisible wall and the spot lit up. 

Eddie sat against some boxes, just as Richie remembered him sitting so long ago--or was that even right? It hadn’t technically happened yet, not in this time, but twenty-seven years in the future. Still, he remembered and Eddie looked exactly the same, age forty, a knife wound on his cheek, bleeding out from being impaled by Pennywise’s claws. 

“Eddie--” he called out his name and the man, who was both his age and yet younger and older all at the same time, turned his head upwards, blood seeping from his mouth and Richie tried to step forward again but it  _ wouldn’t let him _ . 

“You didn’t save me, Richie… you didn’t protect me…” it was Eddie’s voice from the thing and Richie wanted to speak, but his words wouldn’t come. The older Eddie continued to sit, blood soaking his hands and soaking the floor beneath him. “You didn’t save me, Richie… you didn’t protect me… you said you would save me… you said you would protect me…”

His eyes stung and he shook his head, trying to hold back the choking sob that wanted to escape. He was clutching the flashlight so hard he was almost sure he could break it. “I tr-tried--I’m still trying. I’m going to save you, I’m going to protect you, I don’t care how long it takes or what happens to me doing it--Eddie…” 

But Eddie didn’t hear him, instead repeating the words and then everything flashed and Richie winced before crying out at the sight in front of him. “No, no…” a smaller body now laid in the older Eddie’s place, but the wounds were the same, except thirteen year old Eddie said nothing.

Thirteen year old Eddie was dead. 

And forty year old Richie sat up in his bed, his breath coming out in quick spurts. His shirt and the sheets clung to him, the bed wet from what he at first thought had to have been piss because there was so much of it, but then realized that it was sweat.

Trembling, he reached over and turned on the light by his bed and he slid his hands over his face, trying to calm down, trying to get the images out of his head, but they were burned and left there like smoke damage and he couldn’t help the small cry he released, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

“F-fuck…” he cursed out, lowering his feet onto the ground. Rubbing at his eyes, he tried to focus his sight and saw that the clock was blinking 3AM. It was fucking early and he had a flight to catch tomorrow, a huge gig, one of the biggest he’d had yet and here he was dreaming about that stupid fucking clown.

And Eddie. But none of this was new.

Ever since that day, that cursed day, that Richie had lost his best friend and love of his life, he’d been suffering from repeated nightmares and terrors. He saw Eddie when he closed his eyes, Pennywise looming behind him as he did. On some days he got to dream of the happy memories, of annoying the shit out of Eddie and Eddie cursing him out for his nonstop jokes about his mother.

Those were his favorites. Those always brought a smile to Richie’s face. At least until he remembered that Eddie was dead.

It was nearing the first of the year. New Years. He’d be having a show, a huge event on Comedy Central. Richie didn’t even know how he’d managed to snag it, but his new acts were a hit and he was glad that people loved his Losers Club as much as Richie had. As much as Richie did.

It was hard to speak about Eddie (and about Stan) without choking up, but he always somehow managed it. It was when he went backstage, his own words flying through his mind that he’d need a drink to wash it all away. But talking about them was still better than having forgotten them again.

Richie would never let himself forget the Losers, least of all Edward Kaspbrak, ever again. 

_ A little too late, however,  _ said that annoying voice in his head. He knew it was right but he decided to ignore it, like always. It didn’t deserve a response, not when it kept reminding him that Eddie was dead. Eddie was dead and he wasn’t going to come back and Richie would never ever get to tell Eddie how much he had loved him, still loved him. Over thirty years of his life had been spent loving Eddie even when most of that time Richie didn’t even know who the guy was.

He had still felt that love. It was why nothing had ever worked out, would never work out. His soulmate was Eddie. And Eddie was gone. And so was Richie’s soul with him.

After stripping his bed of his soiled sheets and replacing it with a towel to soak up the sweat that had seeped into the mattress, Richie tugged off his shirt and then lay back on the bed. He’d deal with the sheets, but he was tired. He needed sleep. His head was throbbing and mouth felt like sandpaper, but what could he do? It wasn’t anything unusual.

And then he opened his eyes and he was no longer in his room and for a moment he believed himself to be dreaming, but it was strange. He was too aware to be dreaming, wasn’t he?

His surroundings was black. Just black and nothing else and Richie turned his head, trying to see in any direction but he couldn’t. He almost thought that he was blind because he couldn’t see anything at all, not even shadows. And then a voice without a body.

_ Would you save him? _

“What?” he murmured, almost thinking he had imagined the voice but it spoke again, a light, musical melody almost. He couldn’t tell whether it was male or female, hell, he could barely tell that it was a voice at all, more of an intrusion into his mind, the words spoken into his subconscious than into his ears. 

_ If you had the chance, what would you do? Would you save him? Your dear Eddie? _

“Of course I would!” He whipped his head around to what he thought was his right but perhaps it was his left or maybe it was behind him. He couldn’t see anything, not even himself really. But he wanted to see, whatever this creature was that was speaking to him, into him,  _ through  _ him. Maybe it could tell him that he wasn’t losing his mind and this was actually happening. 

This was actually real. Because Richie wasn’t so sure. He was barely sure of anything anymore.

_ Do you think it would be so easy?  _ The voice continued to ask, dancing around him now, swirling in the air, or whatever it was that filled the pitch blackness. Richie turned his head whenever it spoke, but it began to hurt and then he stopped, facing forward and the voice seemed to stop too, hovering there, directly in front of him.  _ Do you think it would be so easy to save your dear Eddie? That you could do it? Is this why you torture yourself day after day telling jokes that don’t make you laugh but make you die just a litlte bit more inside yourself? _

Richie’s breath left him as the voice spoke. It was horrible and terrible but somehow beautiful all at the same time. And it terrified Richie; the unspoken, until now, truth that it told him. 

Eddie was killing Richie. The memory of him with little else, it was killing him, but Richie couldn’t blame Eddie. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he had died. If Richie had just snapped out of it a little bit faster, instead of seeing Eddie above him and becoming breathless from the sight of his love, then his love would still be here. 

“What do you want?” He instead asked the voice, instead of answering the questions that were asked him. He didn’t even know what they meant, how could he answer? But the idea… this had to be a dream, how could he save Eddie? Eddie was dead.

_ I want you to tell me what you would give in order to save Eddie. What is so precious to you that you would give, trade, in order to give Richie Tozier his Eddie Kaspbrak back? _

“I would fucking die for him.” He breathed out, turning around to follow the voice that had started moving once more. Richie meant what he said. He would give his life if it meant that Eddie could live. He would do whatever it took so that beautiful man would get to experience the world, more than he had been able to stuck in a marriage with a wife just like his mother.

_ How nobel.  _ The voice was dry, sarcastic almost.  _ But I’ll let you try your hand at it… save Eddie. If you can’t save Eddie, then try to save him again… and again… and again until you do. It won’t stop, not until you save him, even if you want it to, even if it hurts, it tortures you. You must continue. _

None of the words made sense, but still, Richie wanted it. He wanted the chance, whatever it was that this chance meant. He had to take it. He had no choice. 

“Okay.” He replied and then it seemed as if the floor had fallen and Richie was falling a thousand miles per hour through nothing but blackness. There was nothing above him and nothing below him. He couldn’t tell if he was actually falling, but his body held the sensation and then he was forced backwards, a smack and he went breathless as he hit the ground.

His head swam and he tried to catch his breath as if he had been drowning. The world around him was still dark but there were things. There was feeling and objects and people. Hazy and he could barely see them until he blinked the blurriness away from his eyes and all at once he lost his breath all over again.

“Richie! Richie I think I did it! I think I actually killed it--” and then the blood spatter, that familiar warm, metallic taste in his mouth and it seemed as if time had stopped moving and Eddie was looking down at him with shock written on his face. “R-Richie…?”

“Eddie…” he gasped out just as he had months previously and Pennywise retracted the claw and before Eddie could fall Richie scrambled forward and caught the other man, feeling the hot blood pouring from his body and onto Richie’s hands.

_ What the fuck? No.  _ He thought to himself as he pulled Eddie away as quickly as he could. There were cries of anguish around him because they knew, they  _ knew  _ what this all meant, but Richie was sure he was in a dream. This had already happened, hadn’t it? What the fuck was this? Why was this? How?

Richie tugged his jacket off, his entire body shaking as he pressed it into the wound, but he knew it wasn’t going to help. He was sure Eddie knew it wasn’t going to help and Richie trembled, begging himself to wake up, the words repeating over and over again in his head. 

_ Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. _

But it was so real. The taste of Eddie’s blood in his mouth, the warmth of it against his skin, the metallic smell of it mixed with the smell of shit of the sewers. He remembered all of this, and it was almost too real to be just a dream. Dreams, memories, shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be able to feel and to smell and to taste, it was too real.

It was almost as if it were happening. Again. 

And he remembered what the voice had told him. Save Eddie. But this couldn’t be… Eddie had died months previously, there was no way he was here again. Unless that had been a dream and this was reality? It was confusing Richie’s mind, so instead he pressed harder his jacket harder to Eddie’s room, the man crying out a little, his own bloody hands grasping at Richie’s. “F-fuck… Rich…”

“You’re going to be okay… you’re going to be okay, Eddie…” he breathed out and he was surprised he still had breath enough to speak. “We’re going to get you out of here okay? Fucking shit fuck… hold on, okay?” 

Eddie nodded but didn’t look convinced, especially when he coughed and more blood spewed from his mouth. Richie, his hands shaking, tried to wipe it away, sliding his own hand, slick with the other man’s blood, over his cheek, cupping at it.

_ How could this be happening? _ He asked himself, clenching his eyes shut for a moment and begging himself to wake up, but when he opened his eyes again, Eddie was still sitting in front of him, bleeding to death. His skin was growing pale and he was trying to speak but Richie kept shushing him. He knew how this went, but he needed Eddie to save his energy. He had to get him out of here.

All around him, his friends were fighting, it was about time he was to go join them, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away from the long time love of his life. 

“R-Richie…” Eddie forced out, his voice broken and weak and Richie shook his head but the other continued anyway. “Richie… I have something I have to--to tell you.”

“ _ Don’t. _ ” he forced out behind gritted teeth, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to hear that joke Eddie had told in order to make him smile. He wanted to stop it. Wasn’t he supposed to stop it? Is that not what this was? Had that been a dream? A nightmare and this was reality? But how could this be reality when it had  _ already happened _ ?

“I fucked your mom--” he said anyway and then laughed. The sound was painful and ended with the coughing up of more blood. Richie held back his own choked sob, his fingers clutching at his pants legs as he turned his head to where the others were screaming at Pennywise.

His look turned into a glare and he knew how this ended. He would leave to join and Eddie would die alone. Eddie’s skin was already pale, growing slightly colder with the lack of blood, but this wasn’t real, and he didn’t want to leave Eddie alone, not this time.

So instead of joining, he turned back towards Eddie who took in shallow, but deep breaths, trying to bring more oxygen into himself. His head was limp against the rocks but he was still conscious, barely and Richie grasped at his cheek, tilting his head so that he could look at him.

Eddie’s eyelids were heavy but he could still keep them open, barely, but they were open and their eyes met and Richie could feel himself falling deeper in love. 

“Eddie, Eddie--I…” he swallowed down, nearly rocking back in forth in desperation from in front of his friend. “Don’t you fucking die… you can’t die on me--Eddie, I love you.” his words came out as sobs as Eddie let out a shaking, rickety breath.

But there was a small smile on his lips and his hand slid over Richie’s and he held his breath as Eddie opened his mouth to speak. “Richie, I…” but the words were barely spoken and his voice failed and before he could say anymore, his eyes closed.

It was as if time had paused once more. “Eddie…?” he whispered, but there was no response, just an unmoving body before him and tears fell and he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s body and held him close, his pained screams echoing through the cavern.

And then he was tugged backwards and he could see himself holding onto Eddie’s body and then he was falling into blackness again, the world rushing up and down and to the sides all at once and he didn’t know which way was which and he couldn’t  _ see  _ anything. He was blinded by the darkness again.

_ I told you to save him.  _ That voice spoke and Richie wanted to scream, wanted to ask what this was but it was as if his voice didn’t work as he fell. Yet, somehow, the voice seemed to hear him all the same.  _ This is all real. It’s not a dream. You need to remember that or else you’ll never remember that you need to save him. Save him.  _

How?

_ By doing whatever it takes _ . 

And then he crash landed on the streets of the city, and he knew what he had to do.

He had to save Eddie. 

  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this longer but it felt right ending here. Please don't expect updates as quickly as this one came, especially as I work Wednesdays - Saturdays so I'll probably be getting very little writing done the next four days. I hope you like it <3

The sounds of the city were exactly as Richie remembered them from the last time he had visited. Car horns and people speaking loudly into phones, the calls of knockoff items for sell,different languages spoken all around him. It all sat on his head and weighed him down which didn’t help how dizzy he was after being literally shoved backwards through time.

But other than where he was, he wasn’t sure when he was. Or where Eddie was. And that was kind of important. Eddie was probably the most important part of this whole thing and he wasn’t even sent somewhere near him? What kind of messed up logic was this?

Still, he knew he couldn’t be too far away. That would just be ridiculous. Eddie had to be around somewhere, but he was literally in the middle of the city on a random side road with no way of locating him at all. His only clue was that Eddie was going to die, probably any minute and Richie didn’t know what the fuck to do or where the fuck to start.

But he wasn’t about to let Eddie die. Not again. Not for a third time.

And then his phone rang and he was surprised he even had it on him. He patted himself down, pulling it out and staring at the number. Derry. Mike? Mike was calling? But then this meant… still he had no time for this. He went to mute the call and then thought better--if he answered… Mike could give Richie Eddie’s phone number and then he could call him and make sure he was okay.

He quickly brought the phone up to his ear, answering it and speaking rushed, almost breathless as he rushed through the streets. “Mike?”

“I--yes… Richie, you remember who I am?” Mike’s voice was full of confusion, but he brushed it away, not having time for this at all.

“Mike, I know why you’re calling but fuck--fuck, I need Eddie’s number. You have it don’t you? I need his number.” He spoke quickly into the mouthpiece of his phone and he was almost sure that Mike could hear the panic in his voice because he asked no questions and instead listed off the numbers. Richie repeated them under his breath, not even bothering to say goodbye as he dialed in the numbers as quickly as his fingers would let him. 

“F-fuck…” he cursed out, swiping his hand through his curls as he listened to the dial tone. His entire body was trembling and he was pretty sure he was on the verge of some sort of panic attack, but he didn’t have time for one of those. He needed to speak to Eddie, to reach him, to find out where he was so that he could get to him.

But there was no answer. The dial tone eventually went to his voicemail and he kicked at the wall, the surrounding people giving him a startled look at his insane behavior. Yet he paid them no mind as he tried again. Maybe he was busy on the phone talking to someone else, or maybe he didn’t want to answer because he didn’t know the number, but if he kept calling, then eventually Eddie would answer.

He had to answer. Richie needed him to answer.

He answered.

“Eddie Kaspbrak speaking.” 

“Holy shit… Eddie…” he breathed out, for a moment losing himself because it had been so fucking long since Richie had been able to hear his voice for real. Every night, he heard it in his dreams, but it was beginning to fade, and the last thing he wanted in life was to forget the way Eddie sounded, and it was the easiest thing to forget.

“Uhm. Yes, this is Eddie Kaspbrak. Who is this?” The voice sounded confused and it snapped Richie out of it. Right. Right, this Eddie didn’t remember him. This Eddie had no fucking idea that once upon a time twenty-seven years ago they had been practically inseperable. This Eddie had no clue that Richie Tozier, famous comedian, was madly in love with him and had been since they were eleven.

“Eddie--Eddie, it’s me. It’s Richie. Richie Tozier.” He said quickly, almost wanting to sob that he had actually managed to reach him, to speak to him before anything bad happened. He could do this. He could so totally do this.

“Richie?” Eddie’s voice sounded confused, questioning and there was a pause. “Richie…” he then breathed out and Richie’s heart leapt into his throat. It was the most beautiful sound, hearing Eddie Kaspbrak say his name. “Richie--of course. Holy shit. Hey, what, I…”

“Eddie,” he said quickly, wanting to hear what the love of his life had to say, but also just needing to make sure that he would be okay and stay okay. “Listen, I know it’s been a long time and I know that this is all really confusing, but I need you to tell me where you are. Where are you, Eddie?”

“Right now?” A beat. “I’m on my way to a meeting. I’m actually driving right now so I really should probably hang up but shit, man, it’s so good to hear from you. I can’t believe… it’s been so long, how…?”

“I know,” Richie interrupted him again. A meeting. Driving. A wreck. This was it, wasn’t it? Any minute now? But he had done it. He had gotten ahold of Eddie. He could warn him. “Eddie, I need you to pull over. I know it doesn’t make fucking sense, but please just… pull over and park somewhere and tell me where you’re at and I’ll be right fucking there, okay?”

“There? Wait are you here--shit!” There was a curse and the sound of something falling and Richie held his breath. “Gimme a second, my coffee just fell.”

“Eddie, pull ov--” but before he could finish the sentence, someone knocked into him from behind and he stumbled, his phone falling from his hand and down a drain on the side of the street. “Fuck!” Richie dropped to his knees on the ground, reaching into the sewer, his mind shooting images of Pennywise to the front, but it was okay, Pennywise wasn’t here. 

But his phone was nowhere to be found and Richie clenched at his hair, smacking his hands into the hard cement as people walked passed him, not even giving him more than a curious glance as they continued on their business. 

Still, he could probably remember Eddie’s number if he tried hard enough. If he could just get to a phone--

And then the sounds of sirens echoed nearby and Richie looked up, a feeling sinking in his stomach. It couldn’t be though… could it?

But he couldn’t take the chance and he jumped up just as a car zoomed through the traffic, lights flashing, heading towards somewhere else, and then another went by, and another and Richie knew. He could feel it in his gut, he fucking knew. 

And he ran until he couldn’t breath, until his lungs were burning and he was gasping for air and his legs were on fire, but he didn’t stop until he couldn’t see anything due to the crowd, horrified gasps echoing in his ears.

He pushed through them, stumbling, his throat choking up as he wished. But he wasn’t gone, so Eddie wasn’t dead, so maybe there was still hope.

Richie fell to the ground, back to his knees and stared at the wreckage of the black car lying on it’s side, a broken and bloodied body on the hood of the car as the driver of a large truck stood by, his face made of anguish and guilt.

And there was Eddie, staring at him blankly with unseeing eyes before all of his breath was punched out of him and he was watching from above, seeing the entire scene. The mangled car more of a corpse than a car, Eddie’s broken corpse more of a slab of meat than even a corpse.

Then there was black and he was falling and crying and not even able to breath and he screamed out, whether in his mind or aloud he wasn’t sure, but scream out he did.

There wasn’t enough time.

You just made the wrong choice. Don’t make the wrong choice.

What’s the right choice?

But before he could get an answer he fell to the ground and he was puking into a bush, the sound of light laughter from passerby’s behind him. Richie groaned, his stomach queasy and he pulled back, wiping at his mouth. 

He’d been puking before he had even been in the body and something about it seemed familiar but he didn’t realize until he looked around and realized where it was that he was. 

LA, around Christmas time in 2013, about three years earlier. He barely remembered what had happened this night, but he remembered many nights like this; going to bars, getting drunk, and then proceeding to puke his guts out on the street. It hadn’t been a very good time for him, and he wondered why he was here of all places. 

He was nowhere near Eddie as far as he knew and he gave a little crying laugh, turning to sit on the hard pavement. It was late and few people were about and he wouldn’t be able to stay long or else he was sure a cop would come pick him up, but he needed a moment. He needed a moment to think and figure out what the fuck he was going to do.

The only bad part about that was that he had no idea how long he actually had to think. Eddie could be dying literally right then and he’d just be sitting there, doing nothing, when he should be working on finding a way to save his best friend. But what was he supposed to do? Continue without a plan? He had run through the city like a chicken with its head cut off and it had ended with Eddie being killed in a horrible car accident, so that didn’t seem like the smart idea to do again this time.

Especially since he didn’t even know if he was anywhere near Eddie. He was on the other side of the country as far as he knew.

But why? Why had that voice, whatever it was, put him in New York City the previous time, somewhere he obviously had not been, and in LA this time? It just didn’t make sense. Well, none of this made sense. Richie still wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t a dream.

On the off chance that it wasn’t a dream, however, he would try everything he could to save Eddie.

But he needed a plan. He had made the wrong choice before, that was obvious, but he didn’t know what would’ve been the right choice. Would the right choice have been not calling him? He tilted his head at that. If he hadn’t, then Mike would’ve eventually called him and he still would’ve gotten into an accident but nowhere near as badly. He would’ve been fine. He would’ve lived.

Yet that wouldn’t have changed shit because Eddie would still have died fighting Pennywise.

Richie’s head throbbed as he thought about it and he closed his eyes, wiping his mouth and grimacing as he pulled his hand away with a little vomit stuck to it. Maybe that last fight was still the one he had to save Eddie from in that case. But then why here? Why back three years before they even really remembered each other?

Nothing made sense.

Richie sighed out and pressed the palms of his hands into the cement, pushing himself up. Upon doing that he patted himself down, finding his wallet in his back wallet. He pulled it out, searching through it and found a hotel room key. West Aisles Hotel, room 203.

He couldn’t do anything from here. He needed to stop. He needed to think. If Eddie died once again while he was thinking, well, at least he would get another chance.

-

Richie flipped the switch on as he walked into his hotel, looking around. There was a suitcase open on the floor, some clothes pulled out and he hummed, tugging out his phone and scrolling through the calender he had been keeping for the last few years. It seemed he had some comedy dates in LA and was in town for it. He vaguely remembered them, but they all kind of blurred after awhile, one date to the next. 

He dropped his wallet on his bed and walked over where he had his laptop plugged in by the window. He opened it up and turned it on. Impatiently, he tapped his foot against the floor as he waited for it to load up and once he did, he opened up his browser and typed into the search engine.

Edward Kaspbrak. 

It was surprisingly fairly easy to find him, but he supposed there probably wasn’t very many Kaspbrak’s around. He hadn’t ever come across another except for Eddie and his family at least. 

Eddie had a linkedin and a facebook page that wasn’t set to private and Richie took the time to go through them both, mainly focusing on his facebook page, with a small smile on his face. It was full of random statements, most of them having to do with regulation or facts about just how many preservatives there were in that “no preservatives” food item people were consuming.

It was completely Eddie and nothing about it surprised Richie, but it was nice to look at, almost warming his core as he scrolled through, clicking amongst his pictures. Many were just of him, that awkward sort of picture that most people their age took when they weren’t used to social media, but Richie thought they were cute. And then there were a few with whom Richie had come to realize was Myra. Eddie’s wife.

There was a swirling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. She really was so much like Eddie’s mother and Eddie’s mother, while not like Bev’s dad, hadn’t exactly been a model parent. Lying to him his entire life, and he wondered if it had continued on after Eddie had forgotten about Derry. About them. About Richie. 

He shook his head. He didn’t know why this would help him at all. In fact, it was probably just torturing him a bit. There was no information about where he was or what he was doing. He was probably at home, across the country, and it’s not like Richie could just fly there…

Except, couldn’t he?

It’s not like he was doing anything better, not like he cared about this point in his life. Not like he cared about going to gigs he had already once performed at. His career wasn’t the most important thing, especially not when compared to Eddie and his life. Fact was, Eddie could die at any moment, and there was shit all he could do from across the entire fucking country.

But, even though he knew the general area that Eddie was located in, he wasn’t sure of his exact address, and he also couldn’t just fucking show up randomly. That’d be weird. Maybe. Would it?

Is going to see your best friend whom you had forgotten even existed for almost thirty (he supposed at this time it’d be twenty-four) years be strange? Eddie wouldn’t remember him. But he would, when he was faced with him.

That was how this worked, right? He had begun to remember Mike when he had talked to him. Eddie had remembered him once he had called in the previous… timeline? Richie wasn’t even sure what all of this was called. 

There are ways of finding his address. His own voice told him inside his head and he leaned back, hands on the table in front of him. That was true. There were. He could literally even pay for the information. It was that simple. 

He pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the table. It was an invasion of privacy but this was literally life or death, and since when had Richie ever been concerned about privacy?

He leaned back forwards, typing into the engine and soon enough he had Eddie’s information and he was booking a one-way ticket. Richie would save Eddie this time. He had to. There was no way he would let himself fail again.


	3. Chapter Three

It was much colder in the New York December. Richie had almost completely forgotten to pack something warm, he’d been in such a rush, but he had a pretty good jacket and he could pop in a store for some gloves and that was what he would have to do. In the end, it wouldn’t really matter all that much. The cold didn’t matter all that much.

The only thing that mattered to Richie was finding Eddie. Which wouldn’t be that hard, since he had decided to be a total weirdo and literally purchase any information on his friend on the interwebs. Thank god for creeps, truly, because now he was in his rental vehicle, on his way to Eddie’s apartment, trying to ignore his phone he had set to vibrate. His manager was calling, wondering where the fuck he was, but Richie didn’t care. He wasn’t going to bother to answer.

New York was busy in December. It was always busy in December. Tourists and people out shopping, getting ready for Christmas. The roads were thick with traffic, snow piled on the sidewalks, melting due to both the heat of the cars and the heavy foot traffic.

So yeah, it was taking awhile. He was impatient and he wanted to get to Eddie now, because it would be late by the time he got there and if Eddie was still at all similar to how he had been as a kid, he definitely did not want to be bothered late at night. But Richie had always bothered him late at night, whether calling or knocking on his window to try and lure Eddie out to come play.

Sometimes he actually managed to lure Eddie out. Other times Eddie would tell him to get the fuck home before he got in trouble and really wouldn’t ever be allowed out to play ever again. That was always a very real threat with Sonia Kaspbrak. There were days when Eddie had a slight sniffle and Sonia would have him bundled up with three blankets and basically on an IV, acting as if Eddie were literally dying.

As a kid, Richie had always thought it kind of strange, how Eddie’s mom acted. Of course, every parent was protective over their child, but Sonia Kaspbrak had always taken it much further than any of their other parents. But they had all believed Eddie to just be sick, fragile, because why would someone lie about that?

But now, as an adult, Richie knew what it had been. It had been Eddie’s mother fright of Eddie somehow leaving her. It had been her abusive way of making sure that he always stayed close, and it had taken a toll on Eddie, well into adulthood if by how Eddie was still going on about all that shit was anything to go by.

Still, he would take Eddie and all of his germophobic hypochondria than nothing at all. He’d take any Eddie. He just wanted Eddie to be alive.

Richie flicked his blinker, turning down a quieter street. Three story townhouses lined the road and unlike a lot of other streets, this one was neat and trimmed, but he knew they were still apartments, divided up by families or tenants. But of course Eddie would make sure he only lived in the best place possible. If Eddie ever so much as saw a roach or a mouse in his house, he’d probably burn the entire place down and start from scratch.

As he parked and shut the car off, he could hear the sounds of the city roads in the distance, even over the loud beating of his heart. Nerves? He supposed that was to be expected. He was about to see Eddie for… well, the first time since he had died, either way that he looked at it. 

He almost wanted to laugh at that because even though Eddie had died, for real, the next few times he saw him, whether that nightmare or the two trips back he’d already had, Eddie had died and it wasn’t funny, but he wanted to laugh. 

And he also wanted to vomit. He’d been doing that more lately; vomiting. It seemed to be some type of nerve reflex, but he held it down and let out deep breaths. “You can do it, Rich… you can fucking do it.” He murmured under his breath, feeling almost silly but he got out of the car, snow crunching beneath his shoes, and stood at the base of the stairs that led to the front door. 

It was so quiet and it was hard to believe that someone actually lived there. Richie always had music playing. There was always noise and sound, and that was mostly because he used it to drown out his thoughts. It had been like that ever since he was a kid. First to drown out the way his parents paid more attention to his sister, second to drown out the way he felt towards boys, third to drown out the way he felt towards Eddie, forth to drown out thoughts about that stupid fucking clown, and so it continued on, well into his teenage years as well as his adulthood.

And it was just a habit that he still kept, still held onto. It helped. Kinda. 

Clenching his gloved hands and letting out a breath that froze in the air before him, he hurried up the steps, and looked at the callbox on the side of the door. 

Kaspbrak: 2

Eddie was on the second floor and that somehow didn’t surprise him. He could almost hear the reasoning in his head; “What if someone were to break in? They’d spend more time on the first floor because why the fuck would they go to the hire floors? They want in and out--but what if there’s a fire? The third floor would be most dangers. In either of those situations, I’m safest on the second floor.”

It made him want to smile.

He pressed the button and then there was silence before a crackling and his heart stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. “Hello? Who is this? Do you realize how late it was?” Eddie sounded irritable in his normal Eddie way and Richie held back his laugh.

“Uh--sorry, uh… it’s…” He wasn’t sure whether or not to go with the truth, but he also couldn’t think up a convincing lie that would get Eddie to let him in. “It’s Richie, man. Richie Tozier.”

“...Who?” was the only response and Richie took in a deep breath. He sounded genuinely confused. It would take more than just his name.

“It’s Richie--it’s been a long time, I don’t really expect you to remember me but… Derry, Maine? We grew up there, we were… we were friends.” More than friends… at least for Richie.

There was more silence before the voice came again. “Richie… Tozier? I--I… no, I think I--I think I do remember…”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, more breath freezing before him, the temperature beginning to drop to something even colder. “Listen, I know how weird this is but there’s something really important I need to talk to you about and it really can’t wait. Please can I--can I come in?”

The silence lasted an even longer time and Richie was almost positive that Eddie would soon be telling him to go the fuck away because he was definitely some kind of weirdo, but instead there was a buzz and the door opened and Richie almost laughed in his relief as he hurried inside and up the entrance stares to the second floor. 

The name on his door almost made Richie want to cry some sort of tears of joy, but it was too soon for that. He hadn’t changed anything yet.

He knocked. The sound of shuffling and the door opened and Eddie appeared behind a cracked open door. Richie could barely see him but he could see the way Eddie’s eyes look him up and down. “Richie… it’s really you?”

“And it’s you…” he breathed out back before shaking his head, giving a smile instead. “Yeah, fuck, yeah. You look…” Eddie opened the door wider and Richie gulped. He had never given him the chance to look at Eddie while they had been back home, always telling himself not to do it to himself, but now Eddie stood before him, a few years younger than that time, still wearing a dress shirt and slacks, obviously having just gotten home from work not too long before. His hair however wasn’t all neatly combed and instead some strands fell down his forehead and almost into his eyes.

He could still see the dusting of freckles across his nose, the same freckles that had been there when they were kids. He still looked just as good. Eddie Kaspbrak was still cute, cute, cute!

Richie probably looked like a fucking disaster compared to him. Hell, he was a fucking disaster compared to him. 

“You look good.” he finally managed to work out, fighting the urge to joke and insult like he had as kids. Now wasn’t the time. And he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to insult him and risk being thrown out. This Eddie wasn’t the same Eddie who argued with him playfully in Derry. This was an Eddie whose long lost friend had shown up after twenty-four fucking years on his doorstep at almost ten at night.

“Thanks, come on in.” Eddie sounded a little hesitant but still opened the door and Richie stepped inside, and stepped out of his shoes, knowing Eddie would throw a fit if he tracked mud and snow all over the place and, indeed, Eddie gave him a thankful smile before closing the door.

And they were alone. Just the two of them and Richie really wanted to wrap his arms around Eddie and never let go.

But he didn’t. And now he needed to come up with a reason for why he was here because he had a feeling that “in three years you’re going to be killed by a demon clown and so I’ve come back in time to save your life” probably wouldn’t go over very well, even if Eddie did have his memories back. Which he didn’t.

“So… Richie Tozier,” Eddie commented, turning to look at him, the look on his face as if he was remembering long forgotten details, which, Richie supposed, he probably was. “You’re a famous comedian now--I can’t believe I forgot you… how did I forget?”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one,” Normally Richie would joke but it was so difficult to joke when everything was so serious. He didn’t even know what he was doing, what he had to stop, just that he had to stop something from happening. 

There was silence for a moment in which Richie took the chance to look around, catch his breath, and just try to think. It was easier said than done however so he concentrated on the photos that were neatly and orderly and all in a straight line placed against Eddie’s walls. There were photos of himself, photos of his mom, and whom he assumed to be Myra. None of a wedding, none in which they even look particularly close. There also other people, people he didn’t recognize, and the photos looked at youngest to be taken when he was in college.

None of him younger. None of him from the time that Richie knew him. It was amazing, something he had never even thought about. He had plenty of photos with the Losers. Where had all of them gone? He couldn’t even remember now that he remembered.

“So… not to be rude, especially considering you’re the one who just barged into my apartment--”

“--you let me in.” Richie interrupted, but it was light as he turned, still taking in the sight of Eddie’s home.

“But how the fuck did you find me, Rich?” 

Richie turned back towards Eddie and wished he could say everything right then and there. He wished he could tell him their history, where he’d been, what they had done, what had happened. Wished he could tell Eddie he had seen him die three times now. Wished he could tell him of Stan’s sacrifice and that Ben had finally gotten the girl, but Eddie wouldn’t even know who those people were, probably.

“It’s called the internet. A new invention.” he raised his arms and then slapped them back down against his thighs, trying to joke and grin, but it came out forced and he wondered if he had always been this bad and just never actually realized. “So I get if you don’t understand the concept or something.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and a lump formed in Richie’s throat. It was that same way he had always done. Same way he had done since they were kids and still did when Richie said something fucking stupid like he had back during their dinner at The Jade Orient. Richie found it strange how much he fucking loved the way Eddie rolled his eyes. But then he didn’t. He just loved Eddie. 

“I know what the fucking internet is dipshit but--” Eddie then stared at him and then he frowned, scrunching his nose as he huffed in thought. “Why don’t I remember forgetting about you? I don’t…” he groaned and held his head in his hand as he slowly sat down in an armchair. “I barely even remember how I know you... “ he looked back up, brows furrowed in confusion. “From school, right? Shit. You must think I’m insane for not even remembering how I… how I remember you.”

“Trust me, Eds.” He said softly, slowly sitting across from him. “I really don’t think that.” 

“Why are you here so late?” He then asked after a pause, leaning back in the chair, hands clenched around either armrest. “I was just getting home, I was about to go to bed.”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed out, a grimace of a grin splitting his face for a brief second. “I guess I could’ve planned this better, huh?” He peered at him, wondering what he was supposed to do. He was here, but he obviously couldn’t stay here forever. “I should uh--I should go and find a hotel. I just wanted to, you know, check up on you and shit.” 

“You don’t even have a hotel?” Eddie asked incredulously. “What, was I your first stop or something?” He laughed, as if it was ridiculous but Richie didn’t say otherwise and Eddie stopped laughing. “Was I?”

“I wanted to see how you were.” Richie said quietly and then laughed himself, clearing his throat as he pushed himself up. “But… obviously you’re okay! An apartment in the city! Do you live by yourself?” He dug lightly, walking over to the wall to look at a picture of Eddie and Myra. He guessed they looked happy. Kind of. “A girlfriend? She looks like your mom--”

“Shut up, Trashmouth. And no--well, yeah. She kind of is, but not really.” Eddie stood and walked over, grabbing a decorative paperweight that Richie had picked up to set back down. “That was a gift and I’m not letting you break it.”

Richie held his hands up for a moment and then pushed them into his pants pockets. He hummed, staring at the side of Eddie’s face as he tried to get the paperweight placed absolutely perfectly. 

“Come out for a drink with me.” Richie suggested and Eddie gave him a look, quickly shaking his head.

“Rich, I have--fuck, I have work tomorrow. I need to be up in like eight hours. I can’t go out drinking or partying. That was never even my thing.”

“That’s a lie.” Richie shot back, crossing his arms. “I distinctly remember one time when we were at another friend’s house and snuck in booze and you got more fucking wasted than all of us.”

“That never…” But his words trailed off as Eddie thought and then he grinned and laughed, a confused look on his face. “Wait. That did happen, huh? We were… we were at Ben’s house and.. Bill snuck some alcohol from his dad and you called me a fucking wimp because I would drink so I drank you.”

“And then you got fucking wasted and practically swung from the ceiling fans.” Richie grinned, his eyes sparkling as he looked at his old time friend. He could practically see it as if it were happening right in front of him. He remembered being so engrossed as Eddie went wilder than he normally did. It was after he’d stopped taking all of his pills. Now, Richie was pretty sure that Eddie had been ADHD like himself and it had affected his more erratic behavior afterwards, but he had liked that Eddie, just as he had liked all other Eddies. 

But he had really had to fight with himself to not kiss this particular Eddie when he was hanging all over him, laughing in his ear. It wouldn’t have been right in any direction, but having been so close to him? It’d been difficult. 

“Shit, you’re right. Not surprised I forgot that. I was so fucking wasted, man. Which is more reason for me to not go out for a drink when I have work the next morning!” Eddie exclaimed with a little huff. Cute, cute, cute.

“I don’t care that you have work. Skip work. You’re best friend you haven’t seen in like… over twenty years just showed up, man.” He spread his arms and then moved in closer, grinning as best as he could, trying to charm (although he had never been all that particularly charming) his way into Eddie saying yes. “You should show me around. Show me your favorite titty bars and clubs, though I bet those aren’t your things.” How fucking straight of you, dickhead.

He told himself to shut up. Now was the time to just worry about getting Eddie out of this alive, not worrying about whether or not Eddie returned his boner for him. 

Eddie was making that scrunched up face again, the one he got when he was thinking really hard about something and then he sighed and Richie inwardly cheered. At least he’d get to spend a little bit more time with Eddie tonight and actually keep an eye on him. 

“Sure, fine. I’ll take you to a--fucking bar. Of course you want to go to a fucking bar, it’s you.” He mumbled as he turned. “Just, let me go change first. I’m not going out in my good suit.”

But Eddie did still look good when he came out in a dark polo shirt and--”Is that a leather jacket, Eddie Kaspbrak?”

“It was a gift, shut the fuck up, dickhead.” Eddie grumbled and grabbed his keys and the two of them headed out to Eddie’s car. Richie repeatedly told himself to not check out Eddie’s ass.

Suffice to say, that was a failed request for himself.

Richie wasn’t all that surprised when the bar that Eddie brought him to was small and quiet. It suited him just fine, however. He didn’t actually want to part, he just wanted to be around Eddie, wanted to keep an eye on him so that he wouldn’t lose him. If he’d already stopped death from happening, then Richie had no way of knowing, and he would be on edge until something more obvious happened, and until he then stopped that.

And he would stop it. He swore that to himself.

“I’ll have a whiskey.” Richie ordered as they sat down, Eddie tapping his hands almost nervously against the counter top. 

“I’ll just have a beer--I have to drive.” Eddie shot Richie a look as if Richie would tell him to get something stronger, but Richie honestly didn’t care. Maybe in the past he would have, but Richie didn’t want to get drunk, didn’t want either of them to get drunk. 

“So what is it you do now, Eds?” Richie asked as the bartender got their drinks in order. He hadn’t listened the first time that Eddie had explained it and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for all the stupid jokes he had made, instead of listening and getting to know the Eddie that Eddie had become over the almost thirty years they had been separated.

“You’ll find it boring and probably fake snore or some shit.” Richie had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. It was exactly what he had done the first time. Eddie knew him well. “But I think it’s interesting. I’m a risk analyst so I work for this big insurance firm and I--well, I analyze risks. If something is worth it, if something isn’t worth it. And I’m really good at it too since I’m always so careful about everything. The way I grew up, I guess.”

“Sounds like something you’d be good at. Better at that than I am at being a comedian.” He mumbled, grabbing his drink in front of him to sip from. 

“You’re not that bad,” Eddie argued. “I’ve seen a few of your shows. Can’t believe I didn’t recognize who you were, but--you aren’t that bad. The jokes can be a bit… redundant, however?” He admitted, sipping at his own beer. “As if I’ve heard them a thousand times before.”

Richie let out a soft sigh. “You have. I don’t… most of my material I don’t actually--I don’t write. My people think these jokes work better to be more relatable or some shit. So I go with the script they give me.” He shrugged and took another drink, easily falling into this roll of just being himself with Eddie. It was almost as if he could forget. Almost as if none of that had happened before. Almost…

He shook his head as he suddenly felt the world swirl and for a moment he had forgotten. For a moment he had thought that this was how it should be. That had felt strange, that had felt dangerous and Richie looked over at Eddie, frowning a little bit before turning back to his drink.

“Seriously?” Eddie sounded flabbergasted from next to him, but Richie didn’t turn to look this time. “I mean, sure, your jokes were always a bit much, but I always found some of them kind of funny. I don’t think the jokes about your girlfriend are that good, honestly. You don’t even write those?”

“Uh, no,” He admitted, clearing his throat as he leaned back, hands on the counter. “No, actually, I don’t write those jokes. I don’t even have a girlfriend.” Richie took in a deep breath, feeling suddenly a little vaguely ill. “Actually there’s… there’s something I need to tell you. I’m uh--I’m--”

“What the fuck dude?!” Came a sudden cry at the end of the bar and both of them turned their heads to see a man standing, looking pissed as he stared down at himself, drenched in booze. The other man had clear laughter on his face. It hadn’t seemed to be on accident. “What the fuck? You fucking shithead--” The drenched man pushed his hands against the other guy’s shoulders, giving him a shove and he stumbled off the barstool, laughing loudly.

Richie had a sick feeling in his stomach as the bar got quiet. This wasn’t right. Something about this didn’t feel right. Of course, it was just a normal fight, but, as he glanced at Eddie, this just didn’t feel right. 

“Why the fuck you pushing me? It was a fucking accident.” The other man grumbled, pushing away from the bar. It was almost like two bears circling each other and Richie wanted out of here. He tugged his wallet from his pocket, trembling a little as he started pulling his card out.

“We should… get out of here.” Richie said quietly to Eddie who looked back over at him and gave a small nod. He paid the bartender, glancing back and forth between the wary tender and the two arguing men. Once he got his card back, he grabbed Eddie’s arm protectively and started ushering him out of the bar, except they would have to go right by the two men. 

Deep breaths, he told himself. Everything would be okay. Bar fights happened all the time. He had even been in a couple, but the nagging feeling at the back of his mind told Richie that they had to get out. They needed to get out before it escalated. 

Then he felt pressure on his back, as if someone had knocked into him from behind and he fell forward into Eddie, sending him spiraling into one of the men who then fell into the other and it was almost a domino effect. There was shouting and a glint of silver and Richie dived, quickly grabbing Eddie and tugging him out of the way in a near mess of a blade. 

More shouting wrung through the air and suddenly there was a make for the door, a few other men grabbing the one with the knife but Richie paid them no mind, quickly pushing Eddie out of the door of the bar until they were both outside and safe in the crisp air of the night.

“Holy fuck!” Eddie cursed, leaning over, his hands on his knees, panting, looking as if he was having an asthma attack. Richie could see him grappling for something as he caught his own breath, heart racing from that near miss and he watched Eddie bring up his inhaler, taking a couple of deep breaths.

“Eds, are you okay?” He asked quickly, feeling dizzy himself, but he was more worried about Eddie’s well-being than his own. 

It took Eddie a moment to respond, but when he did, it was a nod followed by him standing up straight, pale and still kind of shaking. “I’m okay--Jesus, Rich… you literally just saved my fucking life.” A small smile spread over Richie’s face. He had… he had actually managed to save Eddie. “Without you there I would be fuck--”

A loud crack rang through the air and then there was a deafening silence broken only by the ringing in his ears. 

Richie could feel his heart stop, but he wasn’t sure what had happened until Eddie looked down, pulling his hand away from his stomach to see it covered in sticky, red liquid. “R-Richie…?” Eddie whimpered out and then stumbled and Richie shot forward as fast as he could, catching him and carefully laying him on the ground.

“Eddie… fuck--Eddie--” His voice broke, eyes wide behind his glasses and it was almost as if it wasn’t real, almost as if this was a scene in some movie and how could this be real? He had stopped it! He had stopped Eddie from being stabbed only to… to be shot?

Quickly he removed his jacket, pressing it to the wound on Eddie’s stomach, but as he pulled his hand out from under him, even more blood was on his opposite hand and he let out a choked cry, shaking his head and crying out. “No… no… FUCK!” He screamed out, barely hearing the people around him call an ambulance but Richie knew it was no use.

“Richie…” Eddie whimpered, his eyes looking a little dimmer than normal as Richie fought himself to look up into them. A pretty brown, dimming, going out, like they had already so many times. “If y-you hadn’t… brought me here…” 

Richie felt himself go cold at the words. Eddie said nothing else, but the meaning dangled between them, and he was right. If Richie hadn’t been here, if he hadn’t shown up to save his life, then he wouldn’t have even been in danger.

He had caused this. Just as if he hadn’t called Eddie, then Eddie would’ve gotten into a different car crash, one he would’ve survived. He he had caused that too.

If he hadn’t gotten caught in the Deadlights, Eddie wouldn’t have needed to save him.

Eddie would’ve lived.

It was his fault. All of the deaths that Eddie was being forced to go through, from the very beginning, they were all caused by him. But he was supposed to save Eddie from dying. How could he do that when he was the ones causing them?

And then the world broke around him and he was falling into pitch blackness.


End file.
